


birds keep leaving over autumn ending

by pearl_o



Series: Carrie-fic [8]
Category: due South
Genre: Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-09
Updated: 2005-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 09:58:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/294489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is 2000 words of fic from the Carrie-universe, taking place before "Merry Bells Keep Ringing" but after pretty much anything else. Written for Lalejandra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	birds keep leaving over autumn ending

Ray Vecchio died in June, two weeks after Carrie came home for the summer.

They finally decided Ray and Fraser would go to Florida for the funeral, and Carrie would stay and take care of the place while they were gone, but it took a lot of arguing. Ray didn't like the idea; Carrie was too young (Carrie said, "I'm twenty years old, Daddy!") and it was too much responsibility (Carrie said, "Oh, _please_.") and he didn't like the idea of her all alone, it just wasn't safe (Carrie said, "I'll be all alone miles from town with a whole pack of dogs to protect me -- how much safer can you _get_?").

Fraser didn't say a word the entire argument, just sat there at the table, staring down at his hands folded neatly in front of him, until Ray started to pace the room and say maybe, maybe Carrie should go with Dad, and _he_ could stay and keep everything running--

\--And then Fraser looked up and said, " _Ray_ " in a hoarse quiet voice, and Ray looked into Fraser's wide eyes and sighed and said, "Okay, Carrie. We'll do that."

* * *

"He was the best friend I ever had," Fraser said, somewhere over the Midwest. He hadn't said a word the entire flight before that, so it surprised Ray a little to hear him, but he just reached over the armrest between their seats and clasped Fraser's hand.

"I don't mean--" Fraser said, steadily. He was staring out the plane window, though from the next seat over, all Ray could see were clouds. "That's not to say that you're not my friend, Ray--"

"Yeah, no, I know, Fraser," said Ray, squeezing his hand. Fraser's comment _had_ warranted a little "what am I, chopped liver?" reaction, but Ray was going to ignore it, because it was pretty wrong to be jealous of a dead guy; it wasn't about _him_ right now.

"You're my _partner_ , Ray," Fraser continued, "and I love you dearly, but... Ray Vecchio was my _friend_."

"I know," Ray said again.

Fraser didn't say another word till they landed down in Florida, but he didn't let go of Ray's hand, either.

* * *

Frannie's youngest met them at the airport. It'd been a good five years since the last time they'd seen him; twelve to seventeen was a pretty big leap. Mikey took the hugs from both him and Fraser pretty well, and he managed to grab their carry-ons before Fraser could load everything in the airport on himself. Plus, he didn't argue with Ray when Ray insisted on driving Frannie's car over to their hotel himself.

"You're a good kid, Mikey," Ray said.

Mikey sort of shrugged a little -- he had pretty bad posture, not that Ray had room to talk -- and didn't say anything, but he looked pleased. From the backseat Fraser said, "I believe it's _Mike_ now, Ray."

"Nah, Uncle Ben, it's okay--" Mikey said, half-turning in the passenger seat.

"Mike? I can do Mike," said Ray. "Or I could start calling you Michael Lorenzo Vecchio, Esquire. Whatever, buddy. Just let me know."

"Mike's fine," Mikey said, looking even more pleased. "And, you know, it's not like it was hard to come get you guys. It was kind of nice to get out of the house."

"Oh, yeah," Ray said. "I bet. Your mom and your aunts both there?"

"Mom. Aunt Stella. Aunt Maria. My sisters," said Mikey. "Cousin Annie. Cousin Rose. The kids--"

"Christ on a bike," said Ray, "no wonder you wanted to get out. I'm surprised you haven't exploded from the estrogen overload yet."

"Ray," Fraser said.

"It's mostly just, uh, really crowded. And kind of loud. There's a lot of cooking. And singing. And crying." Mikey shifted in his seat again.

"Jeez," said Ray, shaking his head.

"Oh! Also, uh, my mom wanted to know if you guys wanted to come to dinner tonight."

Ray glanced into the rearview mirror and made a sudden decision. "I'll come," he said, "but Fraser can't make it. He's gotta rest and recuperate. It's a long trip, you know.

"Ray, I don't think--"

"He's got a bad heart, you know," Ray said to Mikey, lowering his voice a little, but not enough so Fraser couldn't hear. "He's delirious right now, you hear that?"

Mikey looked back and forth between the two of them, looking confused, but he didn't say anything else.

* * *

Fraser was is in bed when Ray got back to the hotel room -- not asleep, but tucked in, reading the heavy boring-looking hardcover he'd brought with him.

"Back," Ray said, closing the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes; one travelled a couple inches, and the other hit the wall.

Fraser put his book down on the table. "How was it?"

"Just like you'd think," Ray said. He sat on the edge of the bed and started stripping off his clothes. "Frannie looks great -- I think she's got less gray in her hair now than she did the day I met her, you know that? Stella gave me a hug and told me she was glad I was there, and then she didn't say another word the whole dinner. I think I held at least five different babies tonight, and I couldn't tell any of them apart." He stood up and slipped off his pants. "They were all cute, though." He walked around to the side of the bed, throwing the cover back and climbing in.

Fraser clicked off the lamp on the nightstand and rolled onto his side to face Ray. Ray set his hand on Fraser's undershirt, on his side just below his ribs. "I called Carrie," said Fraser.

"Yeah?"

"She's fine. She said not to worry about her."

"That sounds like her."

Fraser kissed him gently on the lips. "I'll wake you in the morning."

"All right," said Ray. Fraser gave him a small smile and rolled away onto his back like always, but when Ray woke up later in the middle of the night, Fraser was curled up all around him, warm and solid and immutable, with his head resting on Ray's shoulder.

* * *

They'd planned in a day for recovering from the flight, which ended up meaning that Ray spent the whole day sitting on the bed watching all the HBO and ESPN he could stand on free hotel cable, and Fraser spent the same time fussing over everything imaginable and disappearing every once in a while to go out and take long walks.

The next day was sweltering: in the 90s, at least, and disgustingly humid. The funeral home was air conditioned enough that it felt like walking into a refridgerator; Ray's head started aching after thirty seconds. Fraser had to step on his foot and clear his throat twice before Ray remembered to take off his sunglasses and tuck them into his jacket pocket. He was wearing his suit, the one he had in the back of the closet just for special occasions that popped up -- the last time he had worn it had been Carrie's high school graduation, and before that, it'd been three years, since Fraser had dragged him along to Constable Millner's wedding in Fort Simpson. He'd lost weight since then; the thing was hanging off his bones. It made him feel like the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.

Ray Vecchio had been cremated, so there was no body there, which Ray privately found slightly a relief. Having to look at someone, knowing there had been somebody there, a real person, and now there was _nothing_ \-- it freaked him out, it always had. He wasn't so sure everyone in the Vecchio clan approved, but it had been Stella's decision, and she was holding her head up straight and tall.

There were a couple of boards full of pictures set up around the room, and some of Ray Vecchio's old stuff set out. Ray's eye picked Fraser out immediately -- there was a nice one, of the two of them when Fraser was on sentry duty, looking younger than he ever had when Ray knew him. Another photograph, from Vecchio's fiftieth, where he was sitting between Fraser and Stella, and all three of them looked shitfaced, which Ray remembered pretty well, since it was probably one of maybe three times in twenty-five years he'd seen Fraser get drunk. In the corner of the one of the boards, there was even a tiny picture of Carrie, riding on Vecchio's shoulders; Ray didn't recognize the picture, but she couldn't be more than four or five, so it must have been from the first time they brought her to Florida.

He wandered around the room, shaking hands and hugging people and talking quietly, trying to keep an eye on Fraser the whole time. He spent a lot of time in the corner with Frannie and her box of tissues and made her keep telling him about how well her kids were doing, and her first grandbaby, which were the only topics that kept her from breaking down in tears.

After a little while, people started drifting from their little clumps of conversation to the chairs, and eventually Fraser got up there in his dress uniform (every bit of leather and metal carefully polished and gleaming) and spoke about Vecchio, and what a great guy he was, and how much he would be missed.

They went back to the house with the family. Everyone sat in lawn chairs in the backyard and ate and ate and drank and talked until the day had faded away into darkness.

* * *

Ray and Fraser had sex in the hotel bed the last night there. Afterwards, Fraser pushed Ray onto his back and kissed him for a really long time, just kissing, until Ray couldn't breathe from it. When Fraser pushed himself up on his elbow to look down at Ray, he looked really serious. "I want--" he started, but then stopped.

"What?" said Ray.

Fraser lay back down again, turning to lay his head on Ray's stomach. "I want impossible things."

"Fraser..." said Ray.

Fraser took a deep breath and said, half-into Ray's skin, "Promise me you won't go first."

God, Fraser had issues -- his mom, his dad, his grandparents, Diefenbaker, now Vecchio. Nobody wanted to be alone, but he still had his family right here. Ray ran his hands softly through Fraser's hair, hearing Fraser sigh. "Fraser," said Ray, "don't make me have to sock you in the face."

"Understood," said Fraser. He kissed Ray's belly.

* * *

During the flight back, an hour left to Yellowknife, Fraser said out of nowhere, "Do you think Carrie's smoking marijuana?"

Ray had been in the middle of the really stupid book of word searches he'd bought at the airport, but that made him look up from it. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Do you think she might be?" Fraser said. He was frowning, and looking thoughtful.

"Uh, no," said Ray. "Why would you even be thinking about that?"

"Well, leaving her alone this week... she could be making bad decisions."

"Fraser," said Ray, "she's been alone for a couple days. I don't think she's turned into a criminal junkie that fast."

"I suppose you're right, Ray."

Fraser was still biting his lip, so Ray added, "Besides which, you know, she just spent nine months living away from us and nothing bad happened, right? And I think if she was gonna try pot, she'd be a hell of a lot more likely to do it in her dorms than at the house and worry you were gonna smell it a week later. She's not stupid, Fraser."

Fraser made a face and said, "Thank you, Ray. As always, you're extremely comforting."

"Hey, don't mention it. That's what I'm here for, right?"

Ray looked back down at the puzzle book and clicked his pen open and closed. After a second, Fraser poked his finger at the paper and said, "Ventricle. Diagonal down, here."

"Right," said Ray, and circled it.


End file.
